


Moulin Rouge et Noir

by MissNaya



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Asphyxiation, Bad Puns, Cock & Ball Torture, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Double Oral Penetration, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Felching, Fingerfucking, Glove Kink, Humiliation, Jealousy, Knifeplay, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Panty Kink, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sadism, Scent Kink, Sexual Coercion, Spit Kink, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Threesome - M/M/M, Undercover, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/pseuds/MissNaya
Summary: Jason applies for a job as a bouncer at the Black Mask Club, hoping to get close enough to Roman Sionis to take him down. He walks out with a job as a stripper. It's not ideal, but he'll take whatever he can get.When he gets called in for a "private show" with the boss and his right-hand man, he starts to wonder if the job is worth it. His body certainly seems to think it is.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Victor Zsasz, Roman Sionis/Jason Todd, Roman Sionis/Jason Todd/Victor Zsasz, Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 25
Kudos: 391





	Moulin Rouge et Noir

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever get struck by one of those ideas that will NOT leave you alone until you get it out of your head? yeah, that's what this is. now that it's done, I can _finally_ start to focus on my other projects again.
> 
> I love, love, LOVED Birds of Prey, so expect to see plenty more where this came from. hope you enjoy!

Tuesday and Thursday nights at the Black Mask Club are _gentlemen’s_ nights. Which is funny, because Jason doesn’t often find many gentlemen there.

It’s surprising enough that a crime lord would cater to any part of the LGBT community, or to women, but Roman’s cover is that it brings in a lot of revenue. As if he doesn’t spend a good portion of those nights leering at the dancers as they twirl around the poles set at every table.

Jason never intended to end up as one of those dancers. He applied to be a bouncer, confident that his physique would get him the job.

Turns out, it did. Kind of. Just not the one he’d been expecting.

_“Oh,” Roman coos, “I’m sorry. But that position has already been filled.”_

_Jason shifts in his seat across from the desk in the back office. “It has? I… I really need a job. Isn’t there any way you could squeeze me in? Even if it’s for a few hours a week?”_

_Roman leans back and flashes his pearly whites, folding his hands over his stomach. “Can you dance?”_

_“Pardon?”_

_“Can you dance?” Roman repeats, slower this time, like Jason is some sort of idiot. “We have an open position a couple nights a week. Pays better than what you’d be making as a bouncer.”_

_Jason bites his lip, pretends to think it over. Already, though, he knows it’s a foregone conclusion. If he wants to get close to Black Mask, to take him down from the inside, he needs any in that he can get._

_“I’m… I’ve never done it before.”_

_“Oh, that’s no trouble at all! I’ll arrange for some of our veterans to teach you everything you need to know,” Roman says, grin widening. His eyes flick down, linger on the tight t-shirt Jason’s wearing, the one that shows off his abs and his muscular arms. “What is it you need money for, college? Dancing’s put plenty of our employees through it.”_

_Shifting in his seat, Jason plays up his innocence. Gets the sense that Roman is eager to prey on it._

_“Is this like, a… an ‘exotic dancer’ thing? Like, taking my clothes off…?”_

_Roman sets his folded hands on his desk. Leans forward, that smile reminiscent of a shark’s, even without the sharp, jagged edges._

_“No need to be shy. I can tell you’re fit. You’d be wonderful at it.” He taps his forehead, eyes crinkling with his smile. “I have an eye for these things.”_

_Again, Jason makes a show of thinking it over. Fidgets with his hands in his lap. Then, taking a deep breath, he answers._

_“Okay. Okay, sounds good.”_

_“Wonderful! You’ll start the day after tomorrow. Come in at around 5, we’ll get you all settled in.”_

_Jason forces a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Sionis. Really. I won’t let you down.”_

_Roman beams at him in kind. “Thank me by doing what you’re told. Now, shoo.”_

_He waves Jason off. Before he leaves, Jason spots him pull Zsasz — who’d been standing by Roman’s side the whole time, glaring at Jason — down by the arm, and whisper something in his ear. Zsasz nods, and Jason exits the office, shutting the door behind him._

And now, several weeks after his start date, Jason has taken to his training, as he does with every new skill he learns. He works the pole like he’s been doing it all his life, twirling around in glittering gold spandex and chunky heels. Already, he must have around a thousand bucks tucked into his outfit. It’d be nice if he really was a struggling college student.

The song he’s dancing to comes to an end, and he slowly makes his way off the pole and down to the floor, blowing a kiss to the eager table of men and women he’d been entertaining. Then he turns, heading toward the break room as his set ends.

He doesn’t expect Roman to catch him by the arm as he passes his table. Stopping dead in his tracks, Jason looks down at him.

“Boss…?”

“Meet me in my office, would you?” he says. “I’d like a private show.”

Jason’s heart starts to pound, though he keeps his face carefully neutral. He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and nods.

Roman says “Good boy,” and lets go of his arm.

A private show. In _Roman’s office._ He doesn’t know what he’s in for, but he knows that having even a few minutes alone in there could be crucial. Heels clacking as he strides across the floor, he prays there are no guards stationed inside.

He’s lucky. There aren’t. Jason checks for cameras, and when he finds none, he makes a beeline for Roman’s desk. Tries a few drawers, but they’re all locked. A cursory search doesn’t turn up any keys, even when he pulls off the few books Roman has on a shelf, checking for hidden compartments.

He has just enough time to memorize a few of the loose documents on Roman’s desk before he hears the door click. By the time Roman comes in, Jason has fished all the bills out of his woefully inadequate clothing, counting them in stacks on the desk.

“Your cut, sir,” he says, pushing one stack aside.

If Roman suspects anything, he doesn’t show it. Just smiles that shark’s grin, dangerous and predatory. “Good boy. C’mere.”

Of course, Zsasz trails in after him. So much for “private.”

They sit down on the comfy couch in one corner of the room, a foot or two apart. Jason sets the rest of the money down and tries to quell the nervous energy bubbling up inside of him as he approaches them.

“Some music, please, Mr. Zsasz,” Roman says without looking over. Zsasz huffs and stands up, crossing the room to the nearby CD player, clicking it on. A sultry tune begins to play, and Roman cocks his head, looking Jason up and down. “You know how to give a lap dance, don’t you, Bluejay?”

Jason barely stops his eye from twitching at the pet name. He applied for the job as Jay Reynard, and since then, Roman’s taken to calling him everything but.

“Yes, sir.”

“Perfect.” Roman grins at him. His arms are spread across the back of the couch, legs open and relaxed. He twirls one finger in that demanding way he’s so fond of, as if everyone in the world are just dogs trained to obey his hand signals. “Go on.”

As Zsasz sits back down and Roman gets comfortable, Jason starts to move his hips to the music. Though the idea of giving a lap dance to Black Mask makes his stomach turn, he knows that the better he does, the better a chance he has to get close to him. If he has to play up his new identity as an innocent-yet-sultry club dancer, then so be it.

Roman’s eyes scorch like fire as they roam over his body. Jason feels the heat of his desire as he closes in on him, straddling his waist, moving the way he’d been taught. Little rolls of his hips, an arch in his back, his hands skimming up and down his own body, eyes locked on Roman’s the whole time. Even throws in a lip bite, watching the way Roman tracks the movement.

When he turns in Roman’s lap, back to his front, one arm reaching up behind him to curl through Roman’s hair, Roman breaks the “no touching the dancers” rule and runs his gloved hands down his thighs. Jason knows better than to protest.

Apparently, Zsasz doesn’t.

A huff and a few taps of his foot against the floor distract Roman and Jason both. When Jason looks over, Zsasz is sitting with his arms crossed, leaning against the opposite edge of the couch like he’s worried he might touch Jason and get infected by something. His face is set in a hard glare, watching Jason with narrowed eyes, as if searching for any reason to leap up and stab him.

“Are you bored, Victor?” Roman asks. His breath tickles the back of Jason’s neck, spreading a patch of goosebumps across his skin.

“Just wondering what we’re gonna do about Skeevers and his boys,” Zsasz says. It doesn’t sound like that’s what he’s actually annoyed about, but Jason stays silent.

Roman laughs, and Jason feels his chest rise and fall against his back, smells the alcohol on his breath. “I told you, we’ll deal with it. Have a little fun, why don’t you? Birdy, go show Mr. Zsasz how to relax.”

He says it with a slap to Jason’s ass, and Jason has to turn and balk at him, movements temporarily stilling. Zsasz, too, fixes Roman with a look, sitting up a little straighter in his seat.

“Boss, I’m not—” Zsasz starts, but Roman shushes him with a wave of his hand.

“Nonsense. You’ve been working hard.” Then, to Jason, more insistently, “Go. Cheer him up.”

He knows the next time Roman has to tell him won’t be as nice, so he climbs off his lap, crawling across the couch to close the distance between himself and Zsasz. Zsasz looks just as displeased with the situation, but he uncrosses his arms, reluctantly resting one on the armrest and the other across the back of the couch.

Jason’s not sure which he hates more: dancing for Roman, or dancing for Zsasz. The look Zsasz levels at him is intense, jaw clenched, body tight. Jason drags his hands down Zsasz’s front, swaying and rolling his hips, but, less than a minute into his dance, Zsasz looks away from him, right at Roman.

Roman makes a shooing motion with his hand. “It’s alright, Victor. Don’t be shy. You can touch.” When Zsasz still doesn’t move, he gets more insistent. “Go on.”

The entire interaction brings with it a feeling that he’s being reprimanded. Jason makes a mental note to keep an even closer eye on the pair, figure out if something’s going on behind the scenes between them.

Then Zsasz’s big, rough hands grab his sides, and he pushes that thought to the back of his mind. He tries not to think about how many lives those hands have taken, how much pleasure Zsasz derived from every throat he’s slit. From the way Zsasz looks down at his neck, he gets the distinct sense that he’s imagining Jason much the same as his other victims. Probably with his face peeled off, too.

“He’s a wonder, isn’t he?” Roman asks a few moments later. When Jason looks over, he’s grinning, legs crossed, elbow on the back of the couch and head resting against his hand. With his body turned toward them, it’s easy to see the prominent outline of his hard cock in his slacks.

“He’s alright.” If anyone but Zsasz had said it, Jason might’ve taken offense.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Roman scoffs. He lifts a finger and points down at the floor. “Pretty bird, why don’t you get on your knees and help him relieve some of that tension? You’ve been so _angry_ lately, Victor.”

He and Zsasz both speak up at the same time, Jason spluttering, Zsasz protesting. Roman shuts them both up with a quick roll of his eyes and flick of his wrist.

“Hush. So dramatic, both of you. Bluejay…”

His eyes flick down to the space between Zsasz’s feet. The message is clear, but that doesn’t mean Jason is about to go for it without a word.

“I— I’ve never—”

“Never what? Been with another man?” The way Roman’s eyes flick down his body spells out his doubt.

Jason feels his cheeks start to color. “Not— like this. Not in front of people.”

Roman flashes him that damn smile. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

He’s not gonna budge. Jason’s last hope is to look at Zsasz, see if he can wiggle them out of this, but it looks like he’s just as much Roman’s lap dog as ever. He presses a finger to Jason’s chest, giving him a little shove. Without further protest, Jason sinks down onto his knees.

 _It’s for the job. It’s for the job._ He keeps repeating that over and over in his mind to distract from the fact that he’s nestled between a sadistic murderer’s legs. He bides his time by dragging his palms up and down Zsasz’s thighs, wiping off the sweat that’s gathered on his hands.

Apparently he stalls too long, because Roman speaks up, irritated. “You sure you’ve done this before, kid?”

 _I told you, not like this!_ “S-sorry, Mr. S.…” He shifts on his knees, and flashes what he hopes is a sufficiently innocent, apologetic look at Roman. “I just… I’m still getting used to this. Um, being watched.”

“Oh. Baby,” Roman coos, reaching out to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. It’s deceptively gentle. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. We’re harmless. I promise.”

_Yeah, right._

“Okay, um… Okay.” Jason nods, more to dislodge Roman’s hand from his head than anything. “Just… Just let me know if I’m doing it right.”

Roman smirks. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine, sweetie.”

His leer makes Jason want to shudder. He suppresses that urge, sitting up a little higher, bringing his hands up to fumble with Zsasz’s belt. Maybe, if he’s bad enough at this, they’ll get bored with him and let him go.

Or maybe they’ll just kill him. It’s a 50/50 shot.

He undoes the belt, then the button, then drags down the zipper slowly, all the while trying to think of a way out of this. Nothing comes to him, and he’s forced to tug Zsasz’s boxers down, exposing his half-hard cock.

“Give it a little kiss,” Roman says when Jason doesn’t move immediately.

 _Fuck. There’s no way out. We’re really doing this, aren’t we?_ Jason lets out a shuddering breath, leaning in to press his lips to the top of Zsasz’s shaft. He kisses down the length of it, to the salt and pepper hair at the base that matches the color of his beard. It’s coarse and rough against his skin, and he smells faintly of musk underneath the same cologne that Roman’s wearing.

He can feel Roman’s eyes burning into the back of his head. His voice is low and husky when he says, “Lick it, pretty bird.”

It’s obscene. It shouldn’t make Jason’s cock throb in his shorts. His brow furrows as he licks up the length of Zsasz’s cock, over the underside, feeling a protrusion there. When he tentatively lifts his cock, he sees a thick, horizontal scar.

Of course the guy wouldn’t be above mutilating his own dick. Of _course._

Rather than stare at it too long and risk some sort of retribution, he licks it again, and again, getting it wet before he takes it into his mouth. With Zsasz mostly soft, it’s easy to fit the whole thing into his mouth, and he shuts his eyes and sucks, trying to ignore the world around him. It’d be easier to pretend he’s with someone else were it not for that damn scar, but he tries his best with what he has.

Zsasz hardly makes a sound. Again, Jason might be annoyed if he were trying to please someone he actually cared about. As it stands, he hopes Zsasz’s lack of reaction will make Roman call this whole thing off before too long.

It’s a futile wish. Zsasz hardens in his mouth over time, to the point where Jason can’t take him all the way to the base anymore. He’s not the biggest man Jason’s ever been with, but he’s thick, more so when he’s fully erect. He pulls off to lap at the underside again, tonguing over his balls. The coarse hair isn’t the most pleasant thing he’s ever had in his mouth, but at the very least, Zsasz’s hygiene isn’t terrible. That’s the nicest compliment he’s willing to give him.

“Victor, you still look bored,” Roman says, practically a whine. Jason looks up, and sure enough, Zsasz has his head tilted back against the couch, fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest. “You don’t have to be so passive. I’m sure our little Bluejay can take some roughness, can’t you, baby bird?”

It’s not a question he can say no to, Jason knows that much by now. So he just nods, trying not to look as apprehensive as he feels.

Maybe Zsasz sees something in that expression that excites him. Maybe he just wants to put on a good show for Roman. Either way, given the permission he needs, he pries Jason’s mouth open with a thumb and shoves back inside, setting a heavy hand on the back of his head. His lip curls, those golden teeth of his glinting, and starts to thrust up, carelessly fucking into the back of Jason’s throat.

He chokes at first; of course he does. Who wouldn’t, with a careless bastard like that treating his mouth as his own personal fleshlight? Big globs of thick spit drip out of the corners of his mouth, but Zsasz doesn’t seem to mind, just grunts and keeps going. Hands fisted in Zsasz’s pants, Jason tries to regulate his breathing and suppress his gag reflex. It doesn’t take long to relax his throat enough to keep himself from coughing up his dinner.

Zsasz doesn’t seem to like that. Or maybe he likes it too much. Whatever the reason, he shoves Jason’s head down and holds him there, nose pressed against his pubes, throat stretched to capacity around his thick cock.

He keeps him there.

And keeps him there.

And keeps him there, so long Jason loses count of the seconds. So long that his vision starts to swim. So long that he loses himself, slapping Zsasz’s thighs, kicking backward, the toes of his shoes scraping against Roman’s plush carpet. He chokes, struggling for any bit of oxygen he can get, and when he isn’t able to breathe in around the unyielding hardness of Zsasz’s cock, he begins to worry that he might actually die this way. That the only reason these two brought him in here was to have another warm body to fuck around with before offing him, adding another tally to Zsasz’s extensive collection.

Maybe his tally will go right next to the one already on his cock. Wouldn’t that be something?

He doesn’t expect Roman to be the voice of his salvation. “Come on now, Victor, let him up. He’s turning blue.”

Zsasz scoffs. He doesn’t move for another few seconds, but Jason feels the weight of some nonverbal conversation going on above his head, and, finally, the pressure against his skull releases. He pulls back, coughing, thick ropes of spit dripping down his chin as he struggles to suck the air back into his lungs.

“I’m sorry about that,” Roman says, his voice barely louder than the ringing in Jason’s ears. “Victor can get… _enthusiastic_ sometimes.”

Though there are tears in his eyes, Jason waves the apology away, acting as if it’s no big deal. His other hand rubs at his sore throat, still too busy gasping and choking to speak.

“He hardly lasted two minutes,” Zsasz says, sounding unimpressed. “Shoulda let me keep him there, boss. Kind of a useless cocksucker, don’t you think?”

Jason narrows his eyes. He wants to tell him that two minutes is damn good time, that he could’ve gone even longer thanks to his training if he really tried, but he keeps his protests to himself. Doesn’t exactly want to give Roman any more reasons to push him to his limits.

“Oh, you’re so picky.” Roman pulls the handkerchief out of his breast pocket with a flourish, handing it down to Jason. It matches the rest of his outfit, and it’s monogrammed just like his gloves, with a big, obnoxious _RSB._ “Here. Clean yourself up.”

Jason obliges, mopping the spit from his face, neck, and chest. He goes to hand it back when he’s done, but Roman wrinkles his nose, disgusted. “Keep it.”

 _Great. Thanks. I’ll cherish it for the rest of my life,_ Jason thinks. Even his inner voice is flat. Not sure what else to do with the spit-covered hanky, he tucks it into his shirt.

“He’s a fuckin’ mess,” Zsasz says, looking down at him with one hand curled loosely around the base of his cock. “We should toss him out. Let him suck someone else’s cocks.”

“No,” Roman chides. “I still want to see more of him. Baby, have you ever played with your ass?”

Jason knew something like this was coming, but the question still knocks him off-guard. His whole face floods red, which he tells himself is just a part of his impeccable acting skills.

“Uh.” He gulps, looking between the two of them. Tries to think of the right answer, the one that’ll make this easiest on him. “I mean, uh— Sometimes.”

“Yeah?” Roman shifts in his seat, one hand palming his crotch. “How?”

Making eye contact with him right now feels far too intimate. Jason looks down at himself — and, in horror, realizes that his own cock is hard. Its shape is easy to see in such tight, thin shorts.

“He asked you a fuckin’ question,” Zsasz says when Jason doesn’t answer quickly enough.

“Zsasz, it’s alright. Jay…” He smiles, reaching out to tip Jason’s chin up with one gloved finger. “Don’t be worried. You don’t have to be embarrassed, we’re all friends here. Daddy’s _very_ good at keeping secrets. ‘Kay?”

That last little bit, the “ _‘Kay,_ ” is something of a verbal tic Jason’s recognized in Roman. It’s what he says when he’s finished with the conversation, when he’s no longer accepting any arguments. A thinly-veiled “ _Do what I say, or else._ ”

He forces himself to nod. Can’t keep stalling, not if he wants to stay on Roman’s good side.

“...I finger myself,” Jason admits, and it’s the fact that it’s true that makes his cheeks stay a nice, bright red. “And I, uh. I have toys.”

Roman looks down at his body, eyes burning holes through his lousy excuse for an outfit. “What kind of toys?”

“Vibrators.” Jason licks his lips. “A-a couple dildos. That’s all.”

He can tell by Roman’s darkly excited expression that it’s the right answer. Roman mirrors his lip-licking with a swipe of his own tongue. Again, he tucks a strand of Jason’s hair back, then pulls his hand away.

“So you like to make yourself feel good,” he says. “But you’re so shy… Poor baby. Think we can help him with that, Mr. Zsasz?”

“He didn’t seem so shy out there on the pole,” Zsasz says. He’s slowly stroking himself, keeping his cock hard. “I think he’s just faking it. Look how fuckin’ hard he is.”

Jason flushes from head to toe, hates the way his cock throbs when both their eyes land on its outline. He shuts his eyes and bites his lips. _For the job. It’s for the job. It’s for the god damned job, and it’s gonna be worth it when you take these sick fucks down._

“With a blush like that? No, I think he’s telling the truth.” There’s a smacking sound, leather on fabric, like Roman’s hand colliding with Zsasz’s arm. “Go. Grab the lube.”

“Boss? Do y’really think that’s—”

“I said _go,_ Victor.”

They both know what _that_ tone means. Anyone would be able to tell, with how Roman’s rough voice rumbles out like he’s barely able to stop himself from shouting. Jason opens his eyes just in time to see Zsasz stand, fishing a key out of the tiny pocket on the front of his ugly bowling shirt. He heads over to the desk with it, and there’s the click and slide of a desk drawer being opened.

Zsasz has the desk key. Of course Zsasz has the fucking desk key.

Jason files that information away for future use, then looks to Roman, who points to the low mahogany coffee table just behind him.

“Up. Sit.”

He doesn’t realize his legs are shaking until he pushes himself to his feet. Sitting down on the cold wood, Jason wills himself to keep it together. _This is just sex. No big deal. It’s just sex._

It’s a good thing he’s not too deeply stuck in his own mind, because then he probably wouldn’t hear Zsasz’s barely-muttered “Catch.” He hears the subtlest _whoosh_ in the air, and once again, his years of training come in handy; he grabs the lube bottle out of the air before it can collide with his head. Doesn’t even turn around to do it.

Roman likes that. His eyes sparkle with amusement, and he claps his hands, barking, “Well _done,_ son! Who knew you were such a multi-talented boy?”

He feels Zsasz’s glare before he sees it, eyes dragging across his back like lasers. Zsasz makes his way back with a hand on his pants to keep them up, but the key is already gone. Damn it. Jason didn’t get a chance to see if he slipped it back into his pocket or not.

When Zsasz sits back down, he makes sure to get close to Roman. His arm drapes across the back of the couch, barely more subtle than that oh-I’m-stretching-whoops-my-arm-is-on-the-back-of-your-chair move teenagers pull in movie theaters. He’s _painfully_ transparent, and Jason has to wonder if Roman knows, or if he’s that oblivious to his second in command’s obvious feelings.

“Let’s see you without the shorts, sweetie,” Roman says. “Take ‘em off. Slowly.”

Jason’s danced enough by this point to know what that means. He bites his lip, pushing his shorts down just far enough to give Roman a glimpse of the decidedly feminine panties he’s wearing underneath. Then he pulls them back up and stands, turning his back to the pair. It’s not something he’s particularly comfortable with, but he knows it’ll make for a better show to sway his hips and put his ass on display.

He teases a little more, thumbs hooked in his waistband, tugging the shorts down to show off his g-string. Glances over his shoulder to see their reaction, and naturally, Zsasz isn’t into it, but Roman… Roman’s eyes are glued on his backside. It’s a disgusting, blatant leer, one that should make Jason’s skin crawl.

So why, then, does it make him feel hot all over?

Again, he tugs his shorts up, and again, he pushes them back down, a little farther this time. Bending over, he braces one hand against the table, looking back at Roman with deceptively innocent blue eyes.

“Like this…?”

“Yeah, baby.” Roman settles in against Zsasz’s side and reaches down to palm his own cock. “Just like that.”

Enough stalling. Jason finally pushes his shorts all the way down, stepping out of them, and kicks them up off his foot, catching them with practiced ease. Twirling them around a finger, he sits back down. The wood is cool against his practically bare ass, and he feels obscenely exposed now with his cock pushing up against the tiny triangle of his panties.

It’s sick, isn’t it? Getting turned on performing for a couple of low-lifes. He’s gotten excited before while dancing, surprisingly into being the center of attention for once, but that’s different. Shaking his ass for some drunk randos is nothing like privately sucking cock in your torture-happy boss’s office.

“Legs apart,” Roman tells him. “Feet up, on the table. Spread yourself open for Daddy.”

Jason does as he’s asked, setting his shorts down behind him. His heels click as he braces them against the wood, legs spread wide, half his cock hanging out. And fuck, it’s crazy how badly his cock throbs just listening to Roman, watching them watch him. Even Zsasz is still slowly stroking his cock, his arm around Roman completely now.

Okay. Okay, he’s really gonna do this. He’s gonna show everything to a pair of crazy villains. Practically is already, but there’s something so _final_ about pulling his panties to the side, letting his cock spring out, tugging at his asscheek to expose his hole. He’s clean-shaven for this gig, save for the tiniest, trimmed treasure trail leading to the base of his cock. The underside and everything below it is smooth and hairless, different than his usual style of grooming.

Roman seems to love it, if the way he licks his lips is of any indication.

Jason doesn’t know what possesses him to move without waiting for an order, but he finds himself licking his fingers, bringing them down to rub at his hole. It draws a soft sigh from his lungs, always so sensitive there, even more so now that he’s being watched. He never took himself for much of an exhibitionist — that was always Dick’s area — but he burns with a desire he never knew he had in front of these two psychopaths.

“Oh, you little slut,” Roman growls, gripping the outline of his cock harder. “You like that, don’t you? Like playing with that pretty little hole of yours?”

Jason exhales, long and shaky, to keep from moaning. His fingers work in tiny circles around the rim of his hole, teasing himself, never going any further. Can’t believe he’s doing this. Can’t believe he’s _enjoying_ it.

Well, maybe “enjoying” is a strong word. His body is certainly glad for the attention. But his mind? He can’t like this. He refuses to. The thumping of his heart and the way his head goes all fuzzy, that has to be from touching himself, even if he doesn’t usually get this way when he gets off in the privacy of his own home.

Roman, the bastard, knows exactly what to say. “I wanna see you fingerfuck that tight ass,” he says. “Do it like you do when you’re all alone. Show Daddy what you like.”

If he were all alone, he certainly wouldn’t be stretching his legs out so far that he can feel it strain his muscles. He wouldn’t have his ass pressed against a hard, unyielding table, either. But he tries anyway, reaching for the lube—

“Wait, wait, wait.” Roman puts up a hand to stop him. “Panties off first.”

Jason’s legs shake even more this time, trembling as he lays back against the table and lifts them. He slides his g-string up over them, then sits back up, bare from the waist down, save for his obnoxious gold platform heels.

He’s not sure what comes over him. Too many nights stripping, probably. But he stretches the panties between his fingers, and slingshots them at Roman’s face.

Zsasz catches them just before they hit their target, snatching them right out of the air faster than Jason can blink. _Looks like I’m not the only one who’s got reflexes._

Though Zsasz levels him with a glare and moves like he’s going to stand up and seek retribution for the violent crime of nearly smacking Roman in the face with about six inches of sheer fabric and a few elastic bands, Roman catches his wrist and stops him. With a blush burning on his face, Jason watches him pull Zsasz’s hand close, pressing his nose to his fisted hand to inhale deeply.

God fucking damn it. Jason never thought he’d be so turned on by the sight of someone sniffing his underwear.

“You smell so pretty, Bluejay,” he says, his voice a low, rumbling tenor. There’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there before, a side of him that he rarely shows off when he’s out in the club, chatting up socialites and slamming down martinis. “Doesn’t he, Zsasz?”

He shoves Zsasz’s fist up against his scarred face, and Zsasz, though he doesn’t look thrilled about it, also breathes in Jason’s scent.

“You smell better,” he grumbles.

“That’s not what I asked,” Roman says, though he says it with a smile. “You leaked all over these panties, didn’t you, little bird? All wet for Daddy?”

Jason tosses his head back and screws his eyes shut, body wracked by a shudder. “ _Fuck._ ”

This is so fucked. _He’s_ so fucked. With shaky hands, he grabs the bottle of lube again (half-empty, so who knows how often Roman has done this sort of thing in the past). Just needs to get this over with, get out of here before he can do something he really regrets. Roman’s trill of a laugh sends vibrations straight to his cock, and he’ll be damned if he ends up with some sort of Pavlovian response after this.

“So eager, huh? It’s okay,” Roman says, in that patronizing, faux-concerned voice of his. “Go ahead and finger that tight little cunt. Daddy wants to watch.”

His fingers are slicked by the time Roman finishes his sentence. He lets out a shuddering breath, rubbing them over his hole, wetting his “cunt” until he’s relaxed enough to slide one finger in.

For a few moments, the only sounds in the room are the wet slide of his finger pumping in and out, and his own labored breaths. He keeps his head back and his eyes shut, can’t bear the thought of looking at Roman and Zsasz like this. Just hearing the shifting of fabric and one of Roman’s soft moans is enough to deal with.

He squeezes a second finger in next to the first. There’s a little burn, then a stretch, and then he’s fucking himself deep, curling his fingers up right where he knows that little bundle of nerves is. He’s always had a sensitive prostate, nearly came all over himself in less than two minutes the first time he explored his body like this. It’s so warm, so intense, a full-body experience that tugging on his cock can never come close to.

His other hand clenches the edge of the table tightly, nails digging into the wood. Temporarily forgetting where he is, he shoves a third finger inside, moving them around in hard circles, curling them up against his prostate to press on it over and over and over. His hips are rocking up against his hand, and he becomes vaguely aware that the person moaning and whimpering is _him._ His cock leaks precum down his shaft, he can feel it, cooling his skin as it drips down to his smooth balls.

“Shit— Look at me.”

Jason doesn’t want to. He whines, damn near _sobs,_ terrified of what he’ll feel if he obeys the order. He’s more turned on than he thinks he’s ever been in his life, and it’s because of _Roman fucking Sionis._

But what choice does he have? Blinking back dewey tears, he forces himself to look up, panting hot and heavy. Zsasz’s arm has tightened around Roman’s shoulders, and his other hand is high up on his thigh, accentuating the bulge there. And, god, it’s fucking huge. He can’t even comfort himself with the idea that Roman’s attitude is to make up for having a microdick. There really is no goddamn justice in the world.

If you could devour someone with your eyes alone, that’s what Roman would be doing right now. He looks hungry, like a fox about to sink its teeth into a rabbit, and Jason may as well be twitching a fluffy tail right now.

Zsasz catches Roman’s chin with the arm around him, tries to turn his head to kiss him. Roman entertains him for a few seconds, then looks away, forcing Zsasz to kiss his neck instead. Zsasz’s other hand finally shifts up to cup Roman’s crotch, and Roman’s lashes flutter, though he keeps his eyes locked solidly on Jason.

“If I don’t stop soon, I’m gonna come,” Jason breathes, voice a few octaves higher than it normally is. Sweat beads on his skin and drips down, makes him feel hot and sticky, lube pooling under his ass. He rocks his hips against his hand with more desperation, unable to hold back, gasping in a short, staccato rhythm.

Roman’s eyes light up. “You can come without touching your cock? I wanna see.”

Zsasz rumbles something against Roman’s neck, and Jason can’t hear him well over his own noises, but he thinks he says, “He’s not special.”

He doesn’t take it to heart. Doesn’t think he’d take any insults to heart right now, too desperate to get off to care.

“ _Daddy._ ” He’s not sure what possesses him to say it, but as soon as he does, his cock throbs and leaks a huge bead of precum right onto his stomach. The sounds of his fingers fucking his ass hard and fast are almost all he can hear, aside from his own climactic whines. “O-ohh, fuck— _Shit—_ Daddy…!”

“Look at Daddy, _look at me,_ ” Roman commands him. Jason meets his gaze, looks him right in the eyes, sees Zsasz slip his hand down Roman’s now-open slacks. Zsasz is scraping his teeth over Roman’s neck now, and his scarred cock is leaking just like Jason’s. His precum shines in the dense curls of his pubes, and Jason notices for the first time a bit of his own body glitter shimmering on Zsasz’s skin.

It’s when he sees the thick pink head of Roman’s big cock poking up out of his pants that Jason comes. One of his feet very nearly slips off the table as his entire body pulsates and shudders, the muscles in his ass bearing down on his fingers as Jason relentlessly assaults his prostate. His wrist aches, his lungs burn, his lashes are heavy with tears, but he doesn’t stop, shooting hot, sticky cum all over his toned stomach.

He slows down, bringing himself down from his high, rubbing light, slow strokes over his prostate. It makes him twitch, his cock weakly dribbling a bit more fluid, and it’s so intense that his ears are ringing.

It’s not elegant, but the phrase “post-nut clarity” comes to mind. Panting there on the table, pulling his fingers slowly out of his slick hole, the enormity of what he just did really starts to sink in.

_I touched myself in front of Black Mask. I sucked Victor Zsasz’s cock. They just saw me get myself off by fingerfucking my ass._

_I_ liked _it._

He shakes his head, as if doing so will shake off the past twenty or so minutes. No such luck. When he stops, Zsasz and Roman are still there, still looking at him — or, at least, Roman is.

He grabs Zsasz’s wrist to still his hand on his cock. Zsasz makes an irritated noise, but stops, like the well-trained dog he is.

“Stay just like that,” Roman says, his own voice heavy with lust. “I’m gonna fuck you, pretty bird.”

Oh, no. Nonono. He can’t. He _can’t._ Jason’s already gone way too far with this. He already _came,_ for god’s sake. He opens his mouth to protest, but Zsasz _growls,_ latching onto Roman’s neck with his teeth, gold ones a stark contrast against Roman’s skin.

“Victor, _Victor_ ,” Roman says, lashes fluttering, pushing at Zsasz’s chest. “Victor, no marks, you _nnngh—_ you know better…”

“Boss,” Zsasz says, yanking Roman’s head close to devour his lips in a hungry kiss. He jerks Roman off like he wants him to come, like he doesn’t want him to have even the slightest chance of fucking Jason.

It takes a minute, but Roman eventually wrestles his head away, lips shining with spit. He grabs what he can of Zsasz’s short hair, forcing his head to the side, leaning in to whisper something into his ear. It’s too low to hear, and his mouth is tucked out of view, so Jason has no idea what he’s saying. But whatever it is, it makes Zsasz’s eyes darken, hooded with desire.

“Okay,” he growls. “Fine.”

Roman pulls away, smiling as sweetly as is possible for a man like him. “Good boy. You know you’re my best boy, right?”

Zsasz grins, shoots an “ _I win_ ” look at Jason. As if he cares. They can fuck each other silly as far as he’s concerned, let him go shower off the feeling of their eyes on him.

Roman pecks Zsasz on the lips, then stands, taking a step toward Jason. Jason tenses, scooting back on the table.

“Wait, I— H-Hold on.” He gulps, Roman’s cock out fully now, hard and thick, with carefully-groomed hair curled around the base. “No, I— I didn’t think I’d— I r-really shouldn’t.”

Roman reaches out, cupping his face with disarming gentleness. “Aww. Why not, baby?”

_Because you’re a face-peeling freak who belongs in Arkham for the rest of your miserable life._

“I— This is a little far, don’t you think? I mean, you’re my boss…”

Roman laughs, big and booming. “It’s a little late for that, birdy. You made me so hard… You should take responsibility for it.”

 _You’re the one who made me do this in the first place!_ Jason wants to shout, wants to tell him to fuck off, definitely doesn’t want to feel that thick, hard thing pounding him to high hell. He _doesn’t._

He makes an executive decision to try and mitigate the situation. Swallows the lump in his throat, and asks, “C-can I suck your cock?”

“ _Oh._ ” Roman smiles, strokes his cheek. “Of course you can, baby.”

Jason sucks in a shaky breath, sitting up. Okay. He can do this. He already blew Zsasz, what’s the difference adding Roman to that list? Roman cups the back of his head, urging him forward, and Jason wraps his already-wet hand around his length.

Roman’s cock is hot when he presses his lips to the head. Bigger than Zsasz, much bigger, so it’s harder to wrap his mouth around it, but he manages. As he sinks down on it, he looks up at Roman with teary eyes and a furrowed brow, hoping his feigned innocence will get him to come faster.

For the first little while, he keeps his hand around the base, using it as a buffer to keep from going too far. Works the head with his tongue, licks the underside, moans just to let Roman feel the vibrations; he really pulls out all the stops for the bastard. And Roman seems to be enjoying it well enough, groaning low in his throat. His lashes flutter, and he tips his head back, rocking his hips until his cockhead hits the back of Jason’s throat.

“I know you can take more,” he says, breathy and growling. Grabs Jason’s wrist and tugs his hand away, pushing harder against the back of his head. “Go on, swallow it up. You’re such a pretty little cocksucker, aren’t you?”

Even though his cock is spent, Jason gets hit with another pang of arousal. Fucking shit, why the hell does that dirty talk get to him so badly? His previous trysts have been mostly silent, or limited to the usual “Fuck me harder, yeah, yeah” stuff. _This_ is… This is something else.

The way Roman growls above him, a dangerous rumble like a knife through gravel, makes Jason salivate. Roman bucks his way into Jason’s throat, and this time it’s much easier to keep from choking, which is good, because he doubts Roman would take too kindly to someone puking on his dick. Even if he deserves it.

From behind Roman, he hears the couch creak as Zsasz stands. He’s next to Roman in a second, pressed against his side, always protective, always looming.

“Wonder how much he can take,” he says, fisting his cock.

Roman grunts, lashes fluttering. “ _Mmn._ Very good question, Mr. Zsasz. Bluejay, open that mouth wide for me.”

He pulls Jason by the hair off of his cock, and, though Jason wants nothing more than to bite through both of their dicks, he does as he’s told. He knows what’s coming even before Zsasz presses forward, rubbing his cock against Roman’s before they both push into his mouth.

He can’t take them all, naturally. They’re too thick for that. But they seem pleased with the way his cheeks stretch out to take the first couple inches, drooling helplessly with his jaw opened to its limit. To dissuade them from trying to fuck his mouth until his jaw dislocates — wouldn’t put it past the bastards — he takes them both in his hands, pumping their dicks as he works his tongue against the undersides of their cockheads.

“He’s a fuckin’ slut,” Zsasz says, voice lower than it was a minute ago. “I told you, boss. Look how much he fuckin’ likes it.”

Jason sucks them sloppy and moans, making obscene noises as his lips are unable to form a complete seal around them. They’re hot and heavy in his hands, Zsasz’s scar scraping at his palm, a vein on the side of Roman’s cock throbbing in time with the _thump-thump-thump_ of his heart.

“Oh, I can tell.” He runs a hand through Jason’s bangs, then gives them a sharp tug, yanking him off. “If you like this, you’re gonna love feeling it up your cunt, little bird. Lay down.”

“Wait—” Jason tries to pull forward, to use his mouth some more, push them over the edge before anything else can happen. “Wait, sir—”

“I said lay the _fuck_ down.”

Gone is the socialite and party animal from the club. Back here, in the privacy of his own office, Roman shows off some of his true self in the way his lip curls and his eyes darken. Zsasz snakes his hand into Roman’s pocket, pulling free a knife that he flips open with a flick of the wrist. He puts the curved blade under Jason’s chin, in the soft spot past his jawbone.

“I’d do what he says.” Zsasz looks just as dangerous, smirking, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. “Wouldn’t want to have an accident, little bird.”

So that’s how it is. Not that Jason would ever put it past them to straight-up rape somebody. For a second, he considers the viability of kicking them both right in their exposed dicks, bolting off to regroup and find a different plan, but he knows this is his best in.

 _And you want it,_ a little voice in the back of his head chimes in.

 _Want it to end,_ the more sane voice in the front of his mind fires back.

He gulps, feels the point of the knife dig in even deeper for a second with the bob of his throat. Then he leans back, supporting his weight on his elbows, propping his legs up and spread once more.

“Sorry, I just—” He bites his lip. Knows exactly what to say. “You’re so _big._ I— I don’t know if it’ll fit.”

Roman laughs, and looks to Zsasz, who starts laughing with him. Jason anticipates what’s coming next.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Roman coos. “We’ll make it fit.”

 _Bingo. There it is._ _So predictable, Sionis._

He wishes his smug sense of superiority would last as Roman kneels between his legs. The table is short enough that his cock lines up perfectly with Jason’s ass; Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he had it custom-made for exactly this purpose.

Roman nods toward the lube. “Hand me that.”

As Jason passes the bottle over, Zsasz cocks his head, looking at him with those dark, cold eyes. “Should just take him the way he is now. He’s already wet enough.”

“And risk chafing my cock? Honestly, Victor.” He lifts a hand, and Zsasz grabs his glove and peels it off. Roman doesn’t notice, but Zsasz lifts the glove to his face and inhales, eyes locked on Jason’s the entire time. “Not all of us like pain as much as you do.”

“I bet he does,” Zsasz says while Roman lubes himself up. “Little birdy got so _hard_ when he was choking on my cock. Wants his wings clipped. I can do it for you.”

“ _No,_ ” Roman chides. “I already had to have the carpet guys in here once this month. I’m not shelling out again if you ruin more. This is frieze. It’s not easy to clean.”

With Roman’s attention focused on lining his cock up with Jason’s hole, Zsasz rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Jason’s starting to feel like chopped liver with the way they go back and forth, all the way up until Roman’s cockhead begins to stretch him open. He was exaggerating for the sake of flattery before, but Roman _is_ big. A hell of a lot bigger than his fingers, that’s for sure — and it doesn’t help that Jason already came, his cock still hanging limp between his legs. It’s a lot harder to get into it when he isn’t drunk on endorphins.

He hisses through his teeth and tosses his head back, but Roman grabs his chin with his still-gloved hand and forces it back down.

“Baby. Look at me,” he says, voice tighter than it was a moment ago. Jason reluctantly obliges, and it’s only then that Roman rocks his hips, sheathing himself more than halfway inside.

The burn is intense, enough to make Jason yelp and scoot back. It isn’t an act this time.

“Ah, _fuck—!_ ”

“Watch your _mouth._ ” Roman backhands him hard enough that Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up with a stinging red _RSB_ on his face. He thrusts back inside, rougher this time. “ _Ooh,_ Bluejay. You’re so _tight_ for me.”

Jason gasps, blinking the stars out of his eyes. He isn’t given any time to recover before Roman starts to piston his hips, jabbing at his insides with every pointed, selfish thrust. He wonders if anyone outside can hear the way Roman fucks the sound out of his throat, helpless _ah-ah-ahhh_ s that he can’t control, any more than he can control the way Roman uses him like a toy.

No. The bass pumping with the music reverberates up into the table and through his spine, like a lewd background track to the song they’re making with their bodies. Nobody can hear him. And if they could, he doubts that they’d care.

He locks eyes with Zsasz again, staring down at him behind Roman. He’s tracing the tip of his knife back and forth across the underside of his own cock, mouth open in a silent moan. Jason hates how he’s struck with a sudden desire to lick the precum off of his cockhead.

“Boss,” Zsasz breathes. “Now?”

“Hold on,” Roman says. “Give me a minute to enjoy this.”

Before Jason can wonder what that means, Roman changes his angle and fucks into him so hard that he feels every thrust punch the air right out of his lungs. The entirety of his cock splits Jason open, and every time Roman accidentally hits his prostate, Jason’s whole body trembles violently. His spent cock twitches, leaks some more clear fluid, but doesn’t harden. Stays soft even when Roman’s stupid, big, fat dick forces a moan out of his abused throat.

“Oh, he likes it,” Roman says with a grin. “Here. Clean me up.”

Jason doesn’t hesitate to drag his tongue over the lube-slick fingers Roman holds up to his mouth. Roman laughs above him like he wasn’t expecting him to do it without protest.

“Taste good?” he teases. “Do the ones that were in your ass now.”

Jason groans. He sucks the lube off his own fingers, tasting himself underneath the sickly-sweet tang of silicon. It’s not the first time he’s done it, but it is the first time he’s had someone like Roman Sionis watch him.

“Gross! I can’t believe you did that.” He throws a grin over his shoulder. “You were right, Mr. Zsasz; he’s a _filthy_ fucking slut.”

“The ones like him always are,” Zsasz says. “How many cocks have you taken, songbird?”

_Depends. Do they have to be attached to a guy? Do toys count? You really should be more specific, help a guy out h—_

A particularly harsh thrust derails his train of thought, sends it careening off a cliff. Roman has a hold of his hips, yanking him back on his cock so hard that the slap of their skin is louder than the music that leaks in from outside. Jason practically wails, while Roman throws his head back and shouts enthusiastically.

“ _Woo!_ None as good as mine, right?” he asks. Grabs Jason’s throat when he doesn’t answer, giving him a shake. “Right?!”

All Jason can do is gurgle in reply, raising a hand to pry at Roman’s wrist. It doesn’t budge. Above them, Zsasz moans, low and salacious.

“Need you, boss,” he says, digging the tip of the knife into the slit of his cockhead. It makes Jason wince, and he’s the one being strangled. “Need you right fuckin’ now.”

“Alright, come on,” Roman says with a jerk of his head. “Do it.”

Zsasz is on his knees in a second, knife discarded, wrapping both hands around Roman’s front. He mouths sloppily at his neck as his scarred fingers fumble with the buttons on Roman’s patterned shirt. Roman slows his pace to a steady roll, moaning as Zsasz exposes his hairy chest and dips a hand down to play with one of his nipples.

“Don’t tease me,” he whines. “You want it so bad, then take it.”

Jason sees a flash of gold as Zsasz sets his teeth over Roman’s jugular, but doesn’t bite down. It’s hard to see what’s going on from his place on the table, but he catches sight of the newly-exposed skin when he pushes Roman’s pants down. Zsasz snatches the lube off the table, and Jason can tell where this is heading.

Roman finally lets Jason’s throat go when Zsasz’s hand disappears between his legs. His hips stall, then he bucks them, Zsasz’s arm muscles flexing as he works his lubed fingers into Roman’s ass.

“ _Victor,_ ” Roman practically purrs.

Zsasz mouths at his neck, one hand still tucked into Roman’s open shirt. His deep growl makes something stir in Jason’s aching cock. “I got you, boss. Relax. I got you.”

Jason is given a few moments of reprieve, Roman barely moving his hips, brow creased and mouth open in some mixture of pain and pleasure. Zsasz takes advantage, kissing up to his mouth, their tongues tangling in a shameless display. The scarred up old bastard opens his eyes to fix Jason with one of his creepy stares as his tongue fucks in and out of Roman’s waiting mouth.

Roman’s breath goes choppy, his moans higher-pitched, until eventually he pulls away with a grimace that looks almost _distraught._

“Now, Victor, I— _Fuck_ .” Zsasz bites Roman’s lip hard enough to draw blood, then licks it up like a greedy kitten lapping at a bowl of milk. “I need it now. Fucking _now!_ ”

Zsasz’s hands, usually so careful and confident, scramble to uncap the bottle of lube a second time. He turns it upside-down, and there’s a wet skin-on-skin noise, Zsasz’s eyelashes fluttering. Roman keeps whining, rocking his hips, arching his back, completely disinterested in anyone’s pleasure but his own.

“Now, now, now, _now—_ ”

“Relax, boss.” Zsasz mouths at Roman’s ear, grabbing onto his hips. “I’m giving it to you. You just gotta relax.”

He presses forward, and Roman’s expression morphs into something more vulnerable than Jason would ever expect to see on someone as ruthless as him. All twisted up, he looks like he’s ready to cry — no, there are _actually_ tears gathered on his lashes, threatening to spill down his splotchy red cheeks.

“Shhhh,” Zsasz coos, and he looks just as strange, as gentle as a lover, not someone who’d peel your face off without a second thought. “Shh, I’m here. Gotcha, boss. Not gonna let go…”

Jason feels vaguely like he’s watching something he shouldn’t be present for. If Roman’s cock weren’t balls-deep in his ass, he’d bolt for the door. It’s so bizarrely intimate that he’s halfway convinced some superpowered mind-jumper has just taken over their bodies.

And then Zsasz starts to move, rocking Roman into Jason, and he’s a participant all over again. His trimmed, shapely nails scrape at the table, but it does little to distract him from the push and pull of Roman’s cock being forced in and out of him. Now, Roman’s moaning about as loud as he is, dripping sweat from his nose onto Jason’s chest. His normally carefully-styled hair is falling into his face, and somehow, his eyeliner’s gotten smudged.

He’s a beautiful fucking mess, and Jason hates him for it.

“God,” he moans through gritted teeth. Tosses his head back so he doesn’t have to look at Roman. “Fucking _God._ ”

Zsasz chuckles against Roman’s cheek. “I sure am.”

If he could, Jason would smack him for that joke. No, he’d shoot him. Fair play, for feeding Roman’s already over-inflated ego like that.

“Oh, Victor— _Victor—_ ” Roman supports himself on his forearms above Jason, scraping lines into the table right alongside the ones Jason is making. “Fuck me, fuck me, don’t fucking stop, _faster—_ ”

Zsasz obliges, sweat dripping down his brow. He looks at Roman like he’s the only thing in the world worth looking at, fucking him so hard and so fast that Jason is unable to do anything but lie there and absorb the aftershocks. _Is this what a mattress feels like…?_

“ _Boss,_ ” Zsasz moans, lips dragging over Roman’s cheek, tasting his sweat, his tears. “Roman— Lemme kill ‘im. Lemme fuckin’ cut ‘im open—”

“ _Carpets,_ Victor—”

“I’ll be careful—”

“You _won’t—_ ”

“ _Daddy!_ ”

They both look down at Jason, startled by his sudden outburst. Even Jason is a little surprised at himself. He’s not thinking, not as much as he should, operating on instinct. Whatever it takes to make sure he doesn’t end up with his insides on the outside by the end of this.

“Daddy, Daddy, please,” he babbles, letting his mind take a backseat to his mouth for a while. “ _Please_ come in me. O-oh God— Please don’t stop, _ah,_ y-y’r cock feels so fuckin’ _good…!_ ”

He’s not lying. He wishes he was. But he can feel his own cock smacking against his stomach with each rough thrust, no longer soft, betraying him just like his limbs betray him by trembling and his mouth betrays him with every moan.

“I know it does, baby,” Roman says, his breathless voice hardly loud enough to be heard over the frantic, wet smacking of their bodies. “Daddy’s gonna give it to you. Daddy’s gonna fill you _up,_ fuck, Zsasz, right fucking _there—!_ ”

Zsasz growls like a wild animal, wrapping a hand around Roman’s throat to tilt his head back.

“You’re _mine,_ ” he snarls. “You come for _me,_ not that fuckin’ bitch. Roman! _Say it._ ”

His other hand lands with a _smack_ on Roman’s ass, drawing a yelp from his glossy lips. Zsasz lets up just enough for Roman to answer, sounding just as desperate and fucked-out as Jason.

“C-come for you,” he pants, drooling down his chin, no longer the prim and pretty neat freak he presents himself as outside. “All yours. Victor, _Victor—_ ”

With a choked-off moan, his hips still, though Zsasz keeps pounding into him without hesitation. Jason feels Roman’s cock twitch, feels how slick he gets inside, knows that Black Mask just fucking shot a hot load of cum up his ass.

The back of Jason’s head comes down on the mahogany with a dull _clunk._ “Please, _please,_ ” he babbles, tailbone aching where it digs into the table, Zsasz still pounding into Roman so hard that Jason’s body rocks back and forth with the force of it.

“Inside,” Roman gasps, “inside, I want it in me. Fill me the _fuck_ up, Vic, oh god, _fuck—_ ”

That throws Zsasz over the edge, if the way his eyes roll back into his head is of any indication. He lets out a noise halfway between a gasp and a moan, scraping his blunt nails down Roman’s stomach, holding him by the hips as he gives a few final, harsh thrusts.

And then they’re still. The oppressive weight of Roman’s mostly-limp body is bad enough, but when Zsasz slots himself at Roman’s back and relaxes, too, Jason feels like he might be in for a death via compressed rib cage.

He really needs to stop asphyxiating to death.

But, no, after a moment or two of catching their collective breaths, Zsasz hauls Roman up off of Jason. They kiss again, wanton and unashamed, like they’re trying to taste each others’ tonsils. Jason turns his attention upward instead, fixing his eyes on the dark wood of a stationary ceiling fan.

“...He’s still hard.”

Roman’s voice. Jason doesn’t bother to lift his head to confirm it; he feels his neglected cock throbbing above his twitching, abused asshole.

“Want me to cut it off for ya?”

There’s a smack, followed by a small “Ow.”

“No, and that’s enough about that tonight. He brings in good money. Besides…”

Jason jumps as a hand runs up his thigh, pushing it open. Without even looking, he can feel Roman ogle his loose, dripping hole.

“...I like the look of this one. I wanna do it again sometime. Whaddya say, sweetheart?”

Does he really have a choice? Jason nods, lightheaded, throat sore from all his screaming.

“Good.” Roman gives his ass an affectionate slap. “Then I have just one thing left for you to do, ‘kay?”

All Jason can manage is “Uh-huh.” He lays there until Roman’s body blocks out the light, kneeling above him, legs on either side of his head. That’s when he blinks in confusion, meeting Roman’s smirk with a wide-eyed look.

“Get me clean,” Roman says, grabbing his hair and pushing his head down. “Everything out. I can’t go back out there leaking into my pants, now, can I?”

Oh, fuck. Jason can’t help but moan as Roman lowers his ass down onto his face, dripping with lube and Zsasz’s cum. It’s too much. It’s vile. It’s, it’s—

_It’s so fucking good._

Jason doesn’t know what possesses him, whether it’s horniness or a desperation to get this over with at last, but he licks up into Roman like his life fucking depends on it. No, like it’s the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his mouth. He can’t pretend he isn’t getting off on it. _God,_ he’s so _fucking_ hard.

“You’re disgusting,” Roman groans, smirking up above him. He grinds his ass down onto Jason’s tongue in little circles, holding him close by his hair. “That’s right, get in there— Deeper, I wanna feel that tongue— _Swallow it._ ”

Jason whimpers, tries to grab Roman’s hips and pull them closer, but two big hands snatch up his wrists and pin them down.

“No touching,” Zsasz says, from somewhere Jason can’t see.

“No, he can touch,” Roman says. “Touch _himself_. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? You wanna get off tonguing my asshole clean?”

Nodding his head as much as he can with his face buried between Roman’s cheeks, he makes muffled little noises of agreement. He’d do anything, _anything_ to come right about now, feet scrambling back and forth, scraping by Zsasz’s legs, intoxicated by the feeling of being held down and used like a cheap cumdumpster.

“Let him go,” Roman orders, in a rough, low, domineering voice. “Let him do it. Go on, baby bird, eat Daddy’s ass out, drink Vic’s cum, tastes so good, doesn’t it? Tug that fucking cock.”

He has to struggle in Zsasz’s hold for another few seconds before his wrists are finally released, at which point he immediately grabs his aching dick. With his feet set on either side of Zsasz’s waist, he pumps his hips up, squeezing himself just to feel more precum dribble up out of his cockhead.

“Nasty, _nasty_ fucking cunt,” Roman laughs, bearing down around Jason’s tongue, giving him another few precious drops of cum to lick out of him. “God, he is _going_ for it. A natural-born cumbucket. Jesus, I can’t believe you’re jerking off like this, you _disgusting_ little bitch…”

Jason isn’t acting anymore. When he sobs on the tail end of a whine, it’s entirely genuine. One hand tugs at his cock hard enough to hurt, the other one spreading himself open, hoping Zsasz is looking, watching Roman’s cum leak out of his ass. He gets his wish when he feels one callused thumb gather it up and push it back inside him.

“Better not fuckin’ come before you finish cleaning out the boss,” Zsasz warns. “Don’t waste a goddamn drop.”

“Oh, he’s _very_ thorough,” Roman breathes, leaning back on one hand, keeping the other in Jason’s hair. “I can tell how much you love this, baby. You’re almost done. Drink up that nice load for Daddy…”

Jason has to squeeze his balls to keep from shooting off then and there. He yelps in pain against Roman’s ass, but keeps going, fucking his tongue in and out, swirling it around Roman’s inner walls to lick up any trace of Zsasz’s cum he can find.

He feels Zsasz’s scruffy beard against his inner thigh. “How do I taste?” he asks, harsh and rumbling.

Jason _whines._ He looks up at Roman with teary eyes, begging him with his gaze to let him finish. Wants it. _Needs_ it.

And then Roman, with the light behind him shining around his head like a halo, cruel, sadistic Roman, terrifyingly sexy Roman, he smiles.

“Okay,” he says, petting Jason’s hair, soothing some of the sting in his scalp. “Okay, you can come. Do it. _Now._ ”

Zsasz’s thumb stabs into him hard, yanking him open, deliberately avoiding his prostate, but it doesn’t make a difference to Jason. His hips jerk with every full-body shudder he draws out of himself as he tugs on his cock and spills all over his stomach a second time. This load is thinner, clearer, makes his balls ache as they try in vain to produce enough cum so quickly, but the pain just makes his vision white out in the best kind of way.

He comes to some minutes later, panting and limp. Roman and Zsasz have both stood up, Zsasz draping a silk robe around Roman’s shoulders, Roman lying down to stretch out on the couch. Zsasz is naked from the waist down, which is a lot less sexy now that his cock is limp and Jason’s second round of post-nut clarity is setting in.

“Up,” he grunts, yanking Jason by the arm. Jason’s world spins, and before he can re-orient himself, Zsasz is shoving his discarded shorts and panties into his hands, along with a wrapped stack of cash. “Out. Boss needs his sleep.”

Jason’s pretty sure his legs are numb. He stumbles when he stands, shaking all over, drenched with sweat and cum and about five other substances he won’t try to name. Wobbling like a newborn giraffe in his heels, he falls against Zsasz on his way to the door, heavy against his chest. Zsasz scoffs, shoving him off, and it’s only thanks to years of balance training that Jason is able to stay on his feet.

“Take the rest of the night off,” Roman says from his place on the couch. “Oh, and your hours are increasing. Be here tomorrow night. 6 sharp.”

Jason nods. He leans against the door to slip on his clothes, doesn’t bother correcting himself when the shorts go on inside-out and backwards. When he looks up, Zsasz is staring at him, expression unreadable behind that blank psychopathic mask of his.

He purses his lips at Jason like he’s blowing a kiss.

Jason shudders and stumbles out into the club, ignoring the stares he gets as he makes his way to the back exit. He practically faceplants into the alleyway as he shoulders his way through the heavy door, the cool nighttime Gotham air instantly covering his skin with gooseflesh.

Minutes later, in the back of a cab, he unfurls his fingers. In his palm sits a tiny brass key, the one he slipped out of Zsasz’s breast pocket when he “fell” on him.

Tomorrow at 6 PM, some other challenge will be waiting for him. A new chance to get close to Roman, to find a way to take him apart from the inside out.

He’s a little afraid of how close he’s gonna have to get.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a [tumblr](https://dicktofen.tumblr.com/) and [twitter,](https://twitter.com/ultradadnaya) come talk to me about BOP and Zsasz/Roman!


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